Inestimable Blessings and Bothers
by Chewing Gum
Summary: Sequel to "The Girl" and "Perpetual Anticipation". Mycroft Holmes' household has doubled upon the birth of his twins, and his job, and his younger brother, is hardly getting any easier...
1. Accomplishments

**Accomplishment**

Ann Marie woke up sore and exhausted. If she could move a single muscle, she had no doubt it would all but kill her with pain, yet she did not regret the numerous hours spent struggling and straining.

"They're both doing well," spoke her husband from beside the bed, laying a huge palm over her own hand. "Doctors Elsi and Watson conferred to give them a clean bill of health. Forty fingers and toes divided up as they should be, good lungs… Your hair."

"The girl has your eyes," she chuckled, even though weak. She had glimpsed them before she had passed out; her daughter had wanted to see the world right away.

"So does the boy, though so far he hasn't kept them open for very long. But then, he had a longer time at it." Mycroft rubbed her shoulder gently, kissing her forehead. "Can I get you anything? Morphine…?"

"I'd rather not…"

"Some brandy, then?" At her reluctant nod and almost mischievous smile, he rose. "I'll be right back." He checked in on his sleeping children once on the way to his study and once on the way back.


	2. Legacy

**Legacy**

"You know, most men would be honoured to have a child named after them."

"Perhaps I don't want a child named after me," Mycroft put back, gazing down upon his son. "It just seems that he should have his own name, a unique one." He had always felt as if he'd had to live up to his own father's name. And if his own child was Mycroft Sigerson Holmes the Third and read about "the most brilliant man in England", exactly how was he going to view himself?

"We'll name him for your father, then, not you," his wife responded, voice becoming soft. From what she'd heard of the man, she would have liked him very much. "We'll call him by his middle name."

This he considered as he attempted to stem a sudden fit of fussing. His father had been everything he assumed a man should be; loyal, kind, honest… "Only if you let me name the girl."

"As long as it's not Hypatica. And my decision for a middle name stands."

"Done."


	3. Uncles

**Uncles**

"He's going to back out," predicted Holmes, lifting the sterling silver rattle from its pristine wrappings and shaking it before his nephew. "Look, he's following it with his eyes, he's reacting. Bright boy!"

"Holmes, he's just wriggling a bit. He's not yet a week old," Watson sighed, wrapping the as of yet unnamed girl back up in blankets. It was warm weather but no risks were being taken with the precious progeny. "And what do you mean he's going to back out."

"Mycroft, the elder of course, is going to back out of naming the girl, the younger. He's going to hem and haw and wonder which name the girl, the elder, will like best, and eventually he'll be too nervous about upsetting her with a terrible name and will relinquish the duties to her."

"I am hoping it does not come to that," rumbled the father from behind him, striding down the hall and requesting his daughter. "I need to… test out a few, so to speak. Just to see how they feel."

The doctor watched him leave, but his attention was quickly redirected when Holmes, pondering Sigeron's blond hair, questioned "Is there a minimum age on which you can use hair dye on a person?"


	4. Motivation

**Motivation**

Not much had been known about her; she had lived several hundred years before the birth of Christ, she had been a member of the Pythagorean school of thought, and no matter how much brilliant work she might have done, only a page or so had been preserved by diligent Stobaeus.

What had been saved was the ideology behind the pragmatic talents of the Holmes family, that by studying human beings and their manners, one could deduce the true good and some basic, universal code of morality.

Ann Marie had nearly been asleep when her husband entered, daughter in her arms. She instantly scrambled up. "Well…?"

"Aesara," he proclaimed, voice soft but firm, as he slipped her into her mother's arms.

"Aesara," repeated the blonde softly. "It's… It's a Holmes name, I'll give it that. Why Aesara?"

"No particular reason."


	5. Comforts

**Comforts**

"It could have been a lot worse than Aesara," Watson shrugged, attempting to soothe the wailing infant. True, she wasn't sobbing because of her recently bestowed name but because her mother was taking a much-anticipated bath and the doctor believed that her nerves deserved a short reprieve, and her esteemed father had been called back to his governmental duties.

Aesara did not seem to be much comforted, but at least she had not resorted to the common technique of holding her breath. It was much better her face be red than blue.

"Really, it might have been… Norwegia, or something like that," coddled the man, rubbing her cheek with the soft blanket. He briefly remembered his mother doing something similar to him. "Or… Bernadette. Or worse yes, something painfully normal. Your mother would have either called you Beatrice or Nora if it weren't for your heritage. Take it from me, it's exhausting having the same name as half the country."

She was finally beginning to calm, and with more of his cooing and a bit of shaking from her rattle, the girl drifted into sleep.

Smiling, Watson placed her into her crib. As soon as she was down, Sigerson began to whimper.

He was promptly whisked off before he could wake his sister.


	6. Beneficial Alternative

**Beneficial Alternative**

Holmes smirked when Watson all but collapsed into his armchair. "Rough afternoon? When is the nanny going to be available?"

"Not for another few weeks; the twins came early, after all, and they weren't expecting to be looking after two babies." He rubbed his temples, trying to erase the sound of crying. "They're dear to my heart, Holmes, I will never be tricked, forced, or bribed into saying otherwise, but they're so… shrill!"

The smirk turned to an outright chuckle. "Cheer up, old man, and get used to the sound. I'm sure you'll be hearing it plenty in years to come, if not from my brother's brood than from perhaps your own?"

"Huh!" He was actually not so sure about fatherhood now; it seemed that being an uncle involved being able to spend a measured amount of time with children and then being able to leave them with their parents once one wanted to leave.

This seemed much more satisfactory.


	7. Reunion

**Reunion**

Ann Marie had not expected to see Rose Abbot when she opened the door, but she was glad she did. Minding the infant in her arms, she hugged the other woman tightly. "I've missed you so…!"

"And I you. I really have to see these unpredicted twins. Must you insist on beating me at everything?" teased the dark woman, plopping her son into the blonde's arms when she reached for him. "Twice as many babies, twice as long at labour…"

She stuck out her tongue. "That's not the least bit funny. Oh, what a dear…! He looks so much like his father! Hello, there, Henry…"

"We really must talk about rescheduling our pregnancies better next time around; we can't take a chance of overlapping next time."


	8. First Name Basis

**First Name Basis**

For a woman, married or unmarried, to call a man who was not their husband or close relative, especially an older man, was practically unheard of in the upper classes, which did not mean it did not happen, simply that no one talked about it.

"Gone mad yet, Mycroft?" called Rose cheerily as she descended into his study where he'd been trying to divide his time between a fussing daughter and a map of Australia; his daughter was currently winning out over the international crisis in priority.

"I'm glad to see you well and recovered Mrs. Abbot," he replied simply, allowing her to take up the infant. "Your son is present, I take it?"

"With your wife, quite fascinated by the new sight of blonde hair. She's taken a shining to him, Mycroft, best hope she doesn't set her heart out for a dark baby next time." Had her mother heard her say such things to a man, a _white _man, she'd have had her ears box, and yet the British government only reddened slightly and returned to his work.


	9. Needing Education

**Needing Education**

It had been a perfectly normal discussion about nicknames between the two new mothers. Ann Marie had been completely certain that they would call their son Sigerson on a daily basis until his Uncle Sherrinford paid a visit while picking up Heather from London and began calling him Myke. Suddenly, he was Myke.

Ann had been rather surprised. Mycroft merely shrugged, saying that Sherrinford had a way like that. Truth be told, he was glad to be rid of the nickname himself.

They'd gotten into confusing and inappropriate nicknames when Rose had come out with "I knew a boy when I was at Cambridge who went by…"

Without letting her finish, the blonde burst out with "You went to university!"

She did not so much as blush. "Well… Yes. Women can't get a degree there yet, of course, but I completed a major in history. My colour was an issue, but they're a liberal school and my father donated quite a bit. I mean, I was sixteen when I became engaged to Michael, we couldn't have married yet. And so I went to university."

Ann Marie let her go back to telling her original story, something within her panging. She'd barely completed finishing school, and that was enough for a girl. Or used to be… She could not shake the thought of her daughter starting university, perhaps at Cambridge, or Oxford, and lying about her mother's alma matter.


	10. Early Start

**Early Start**

Watson entered the sitting room, sighing at the mess of papers spread about. It could only mean a fresh case. "Holmes, do you know why Mrs. Holmes is scouring through university literature, by any chance? I can only assume it's something you said or did."

"This time, I can truly claim innocence," he retorted with triumph, sparing a glance from his work. "She told me she wants to decide which schools she should impose upon her children, since Mycroft won't state his opinion and she does not want them to turn out anything like her own father."

He sighed, dropping his black bag and unbuttoning his coat. "And yourself? You usually have an opinion."

"Cambridge, for Aesara, is already open to women, and Mycroft would appreciate a mathematician or at the very least a scientist. Failing that, Oxford would be acceptable. York for the boy, of course. Well-rounded, athletic, and respectable."

Smiling with amusement, he further prodded. "And if Mrs. Holmes felt the urge to apply herself?"

"University of London," the detective replied without the slightest of pauses. "She would fit in wonderfully."


	11. Qualifications

**Qualifications**

"Mycroft…?" murmured Ann Marie, giving the man's arm a slight prod. "Are you awake…?"

"It's late," he yawned in response, attempting to burrow deeper under the covers. Were it an emergency, no doubt she'd be more aggressive in her tactics. "What is it?"

She felt embarrassed to be asking this question, let alone keeping him from his sleep because of it, but she could find no rest until she asked it. "Do you ever wish I was educated?"

"Educated in what?"

"I don't _know_, anything! Just that I went to university, like Emily and Rose. When you talk about your work it's like in a different language sometimes, I just wanted to know… Would you rather I was like them…?"

"Well, to start, I personally much prefer that you're not like Emily," he sighed, wrapping an arm around her waist. "And if you knew what I was talking about regarding my work, I wouldn't be able to discuss it with you at all." He smiled as she edged against him, not for the first time wishing his wife was more content with what she was rather than holding herself against a hundred different ideals.

And if asked on his opinions of campuses, his pick would be Oxford and the University in London; he wanted one in medicine and one in politics, which chose which was of little matter.


	12. Elle parle

_AN: My apologies in advance for my rusty, rusty French._

**Elle parle**

"Est-cela un merle sur la branche? C'est un bel oiseau!"1. smiled Ann Marie as her son kicked in enthusiasm, grey gaze focused outside the window on the bird pecking about.

Mycroft looked up from his files. "Accustoming them young? J'oublie souvent que vous parlez du français bien."

"You never forget anything. I've figured it's one thing I can teach them." With their heritage, she would not be surprised if they were more intelligent than her by their adolescence or sooner, a thought that discontented her a bit. "And I only speak it because I had a series of French nannies from birth until I was twelve and went to boarding school, they were in fashion during that period."

The mention reminded him that he had to check in on the status of their own nanny. Whitehall insisted she would be in the country within a week, but then, they had said that two weeks ago. He personally did not mind being kept in when the evening came, but he knew Ann was starting to get restless for society.

"Mama vous adore, mais il a pris trop longtemps pour ajuster dans mes robes une fois plus!" 2. his wife cooed to their twins, knowing that expression.

_1. "Is that a blackbird on that branch? It's a pretty bird!"_

_2. "Mama loves you, but it has been too long a time for me to fit into my dresses again."_


	13. References

**References**

It was usually the younger brother who called upon the older for many reasons; Sherlock was more often in need of Mycroft, he was more prone to movement, and Mycroft was (or at least had been) often following a tight schedule, making finding him trivial. Another reason had been added recently.

"You mustn't undertake this business lightly," the detective warned with a shake of his finger, his niece making a half-hearted attempt to grab at it as he did so before going back to prodding at his coat button. "These two may well be the future of our government, not only their protection but their development is crucial."

"I don't need to be given parenting lessons by you," Mycroft muttered. Files were fanned out on his desk spanning from corner to corner and beyond, yet he kept coming back to one individual, the same one he had selected a mere week after he had learned the news. Dear god, that seems like ages ago. Their birth seemed ages ago. Had there really been a time when his children had not been present in his house?

"I'm not saying I disapprove of her. Weapons training, a practised shot, hand-to-hand evidence, a clean record of loyalty and previous experience with children… But she's half American, do you really want to expose them to that so young?"

It had been a hard decision, granted. "I've been assured her accent is uncorrupted." He was firm as he spoke, yet glancing down to his namesake sleeping in the crook of his arm, he made a silent promise that if their first words were with a continental slant, it would be a nanny of better stock for them.


	14. Practical Experience

**Practical Experience **

Holmes rarely liked to draw his weapon, yet his pistol had all but sprung to his hand in this instance. He did not fire not for lack of wanting to, but because there was a barrel pressed against his temple before he could.

His sister-in-law had began bleeding, only slightly and with no pain, but of course Mycroft had whisked her off without an ounce of hesitation to the doctor. He did not trust the children at home with only the maids for protection and had asked him to supervise them (with instructions to handle them as little as possible).

The detective had been mulling around his brother's study looking at his newest books, nephew sleeping in his arms, when he heard the sound of the locked door being forced. The maids were in their chambers, they were useless… A burglar trying to enter a lit house? No, this person obviously had a purpose specific to the family.

Holmes took the wicker basket containing files, placed it on the floor, and put his nephew, still sleepily obvious, in it, nudging him under the desk and out of sight before leaving the study. Aesara was still upstairs. They had gotten through the door…

He saw the figure in the hallway and drew his pistol. He felt metal against his skull and he twisted just enough to see his assailant, a fairly young redhead with spectacles and a braid.

"You must be the nanny."

"You must be the brother," she spoke, face matching her hair as she sheathed her pistol.


	15. Job Description

**Job Description**

"Here is Mycroft Sigerson Number Three," Holmes announced, fetching the apparently content infant from under the desk and placing him in his new nanny and protector's arms. "He's generally quiet, receptive to new people, passive. The perfect kidnapping victim." He then paused. "I'm curious as to how you deduced I was not your employer."

Ruth Barron took the infant with ease. One half of her workload… It had only been one child when she'd been hired, but obviously things had changed. "Well, first off new parents rarely look as well-rested as you do. Second, Mr. Holmes, the other one, he was expecting me and wouldn't have locked the door. I saw the lights on the ground floor but none on the top, I wanted to be sure there was nothing amiss. Also, we get physical descriptions of the parents in our information files. Lack of sleep and stress can cause weight loss, but not like this."

"I must say I'm impressed with Whitehall," he commented as they climbed the stairs towards the nursery. "This kind of assignment must be out of their usual work."

"You'd be surprised," Miss Barron sighed as the little boy grasped for her braid. A roof always over her head, as little trouble as possible, and an interesting household. This was much better than getting shot at every day. At least so far.

When Aesara Holmes began to weep the moment she left her uncle's arms and went into hers, she began to reconsider.


	16. Scrutiny

**Scrutiny**

Ann Marie knew she was far more vain than she should be. She also knew that she did not need to fear Mycroft straying, not when he complained that he did not have the energy for her let alone another woman. Still, that streak of jealousy within her made her glad that she was far prettier than the nanny.

"I apologize for Aesara, she's so fussy with new people," she smiled as her daughter quieted almost instantly, regarding her with a look that almost questioned why she was being handled by this strange, bespectacled woman.

"No, really," Barron replied, being sure to volley with another smile. She was in the ranks of high society again, a servant to those who cared not only about results but presentation. "I'm… sorry about putting a gun to your brother-in-law's head."

"He could use a bit more of it now and then, in my opinion." Polite, clean, comfortable with the children, it was all Ann Marie was looking for. If Whitehall cleared her, her reputation had to be as clean as Sunday china. If she could not trust her husband's research, she could trust nothing. She was Jewish; the name Barron in her spelling was a hint, and her hair was a giveaway.

Not that she minded, of course. After all, Dr. Elsie was Jewish and he had been the first to handle her children, so perhaps it was only appropriate. She only hoped she did not abide by the kosher diet, she did not want to do without shellfish in the house.


	17. Negative

**Negative**

"Are they really a month old?" Ann Marie questioned aloud as she returned from settling their babies for sleep, no matter how briefly they would do so. Poor Miss Ruth Barron still had little effect on Aesara's wailing when she was doing it simply for the desire to wail. She was beginning to suspect either colic or spite.

"Yesterday, yes." Over the course of their marriage, Mycroft had grown quite used to non-sequitur questions. Still, he had expected her to be tracking the days for their life methodically.

"I mean since they were born a month too early, are they really a month old or are they just at zero now?" She stood with her back to the mirror, groping to undo her dress. "And also, do you think it's too soon to wear a corset again? I'm very nearly back to normal."

It was horrible to be thankful that the twins had been born too soon; so many early babies died or else suffered, but any larger and the tiny blonde might have bled out trying to deliver them. Besides, they were well. "They're a month old, a person can't be a negative number of years old, Ann. And I wish you'd give it more time. You bled…"

"Something Dr. Elsi said is perfectly normal after birthing." Her dress finally gave, pooling to her feet, a puddle of cloth. "I'm glad to be a mother, I just want to be pretty again!"

"If you were any prettier, I wouldn't let you leave the house, and if you insist on that corset again, start gently, hmm?" He could not stand to be worried any more for her.


End file.
